


A Land Far, Far Away

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Ariadne thought they were heading to a boring sheepherding town to broker a trade contract.  Instead, they end up in an enemy(ish) country, trapped on a mountain, in a scary castle, with a possibly-evil wizard (who nonetheless makes excellent scones).  To say nothing of the dragon....  (Fantasy!AU, slight ooc, so much crack I don't even.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Land Far, Far Away

_This started as commentfic for[biohazard_03's wonderfully adorkable pic.](http://biohazard-03.livejournal.com/4586.html) That's my only excuse._

 

\------------

"We're lost."

"Very astute observation, Your Highness."

Arthur swatted at a particularly persistent bug. "There's no need to get snippy," he grumbled.

Ariadne turned in her saddle and actually _arched_ an eyebrow at him. Arthur scowled back, "I know exactly where you learned that expression, and really, imitating my mother right now is _not_ helping."

She turned back around, her back as straight as the sword at her hip. "Of course, Your Highness."

Arthur sighed, then slapped viciously one last time. He made a face and wiped his glove on his cloak. He didn't even _want_ to know what that had been. "Look, Ariadne...." Might as well pull out the big, we've-known-each-other-since-we-were-five crossbows, he thought, lest she Your Highness him all the way to Culverton. "...Ari. Come on, I'm sorry that I doubted your sense of direction. You were right, at the Weatherly crossroads."

"Hmph," was all he heard in reply.

Arthur blinked as they came out of the forest into a clearing. "...aaaand probably the one before it, too. Honestly, are we on a _mountain_?"

They were, indeed, on a mountain. A very large mountain, if the valley arrayed below them in green and panoramic splendor was any indication. Arthur squinted and could just make out a road winding along the valley floor and perhaps a village in the distance.

"That...does not look like Culverton," Arthur said, carefully. "And there aren't any mountains around Culverton. There aren't any mountains in the whole south of the kingdom."

"No. How did we...." Ariadne looked further up the mountain, then back the way they came, then out at the valley again. Her brow furrowed as if said valley might be intimidated into answering. "Well, where the hell are we, then?"

This, Arthur thought, with a sinking feeling in his gut that was premonition as well as a longing for a nice hot supper, was much more than taking the wrong turn.

\------

They pushed on a bit further, until the road headed back into the forest, then stopped in the first relatively campable spot they came to out of the wind. Ariadne pulled out the map, and they both hunched over it for long moments before deciding that they had absolutely no clue where they were.

"This is impossible!" Ariadne said in disgust as she straightened. "We haven't traveled far enough for us to have gotten lost! You and I crawled all over every place within two days' ride of the castle by the time we were twelve! Unless they've constructed some new roads between the capital and Culverton...."

"It could be magic," Arthur said, as he rolled up the map and slid it back into its case.

Ariadne frowned. "Well, that would be worse, wouldn't it? Because I didn't do it, and you didn't do it, which means that _someone else_ did it to us, and all the sparkly gods only know why." She stopped, eyes narrowing. "Maybe they're trying to kidnap us...well, you, obviously, as no one in their right mind would try and kidnap me."

"And kidnapping _me_ makes sense? I'm what, tenth in line now? No, twelfth, after the new twins. The kingdom's knee-deep in heirs. Honestly, they were sending me to negotiate trade with _Culverton_ , population: 3000 including the sheep." Arthur scowled at the slanting of the light through the trees. The sun was setting. "And really, if someone were trying to kidnap me, wouldn't they have shown up by now to, oh, I don't know, be evil at us or something?"

"Well, well, look what I found." Arthur jumped at the new, oddly-accented voice practically in his ear.

Not fast enough, though, to avoid the swat on his ass. As in Arthur's experience swats on the ass were what particularly pretty servants got if they wandered too close to his Uncle Miles when he was deep in his cups, Arthur was justified in being offended as well as surprised. "Hey!" Arthur twisted, backpedalling towards Ariadne. "Who-- What-- Where--"

"Ah, articulate as well as pretty, I see." The newcomer pushed back the hood of his dark robe to reveal brown hair, sharp eyes, and an indecently amused smile.

Ariadne leapt between Arthur and the strange man, her sword out and at the ready. "Stay right there! Who are you? What do you want?"

"Now, that's not very friendly, is it?" The man seemed completely unperturbed at having an armored woman quite capably brandish a sword at him. He crossed his arms. "And shouldn't that be my line, what with the two of you trespassing on my mountain and all?"

Ariadne shifted her stance. "I'm asking the questions here!"

"Trespassing?" Arthur asked, from around Ariadne's shoulder.

"Yes." The man smiled and waved a hand at said mountain, as if they might have missed it.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at this grandiose claim. The man had a certain sharp air about him, but his robes (black...never a good sign) were slightly rumpled, and he looked as if he hadn't shaved in a few days. He did not look, in Arthur's opinion, like someone likely to own large tracts of mountain. "We didn't see any signs. Look, could we back up a bit to the who are you part?"

The man tilted his head, expression going from speculative to thoughtful before he recovered and pulled himself up

"I am Eames the Black, also known as Eames the Ruthless, Eames of Many Faces, and Eames the Dragon-Tamer, Friend of the Anglish Crown, Duke of Yorkminstershire, Initiate of the Three Moons School, Master of the Polymorphic Arts, Captain of the Black Dragon Company _and_ recent Grand Champion of the Fellerton 423rd Annual Spring Baking Competition." He sketched a bow with a flourish. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

"Er. Not...really," Arthur admitted. "Wait, the _Anglish_ Crown--?"

"Anglish!" Ariadne hissed pointedly at Arthur. "An Anglish sorceror! See, I told you!"

Arthur threw up his hands. "That doesn't even mean anything! We're not at war right _now_ \--"

"Well, we will be if you're kidnapped by a pervy Anglish sorceror, now won't we?" Ariadne pointed out.

The sorceror sighed. "I hate to interrupt, but just who _are_ you people?"

Ariadne's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "We're travelers. Perfectly...ordinary travelers."

Eames just looked at her. "Yes, because of course perfectly ordinary travelers call each other 'Your Highness' _all_ the time. Wish to try again, dear?"

Ariadne's sword-tip quivered in fury. "You were spying on us!"

"Of course I was, you were two random strangers who somehow got past the dragon and climbed halfway up my mountain!"

Ariadne and Arthur looked at each other, then back at Eames. "...Dragon?"

"YES! The--" Eames stopped, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know what? Why don't we start completely over, shall we? Hallo, my name is Eames. And you are?"

Arthur sighed. The wind was turning colder as the sun went down, and he was getting tired of talking in circles. "I'm Arthur. Prince Arthur Galliard of Gallia. This is my cousin, Countess Ariadne Westfall of Gallia. This is a very nice mountain you've got here, and we've no idea how we got on it. Last we knew, we were in Gallia. Could you tell us where we are, maybe?"

"Ah," Eames said, eyebrows raised. "Well. I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you, then."

Arthur closed his eyes. "Let me guess. We're in Anglia."

"Yes."

"Near the Spineridge Mountains? About two weeks' travel from the border?"

Eames lips quirked. "More like three, actually."

Arthur sighed. "Lovely."

The sun dipped a little lower, light dipping from gold to red. The wind snuck under the hem of Arthur's cloak, promising a frigid night. They were considerably further south and considerably higher up than Arthur had dressed for. Luckily, their sorcerous new friend had enough decency (ass-slapping tendencies aside) to offer them his hospitality. Ariadne frowned and tugged Arthur aside, still keeping her body between him and Eames. "Need I point out that we know nothing about this guy?"

"Not really," Arthur murmured back, "but we don't have much of a choice. We're lost, it's getting dark, and we're not equipped to camp out in cold like this. Not to mention we missed lunch, have a loaf of bread and two old apples between the two of us, and I'm starving."

Ariadne swatted him on the shoulder. "Don't think with your stomach! This could still be a trap! I know the Black Dragon Company, Arthur, they're mercenaries. Even if he didn't bring us here--which we don't know--he could still decide to sell you to the highest bidder. Or whatever other..." she raised an eyebrow pointedly " _nefarious_ business he might have in mind. I mean, honestly, who but a pervert greets someone they don't know like that?"

"Someone with the social graces of a potted plant, but in case you haven't noticed, I have a sword, too. I'm quite capable of guarding my own virtue, thank you." Arthur sighed. "Besides, I really don't think that's what this is. I mean, I know he sounds like a used carriage salesman half the time, but I don't think he's lying to us. I think it'll be ok."

Ariadne sighed and threw up her hands. "Fine. If we wake up hogtied and being driven to market, I'm going to say I told you so."

"Fair enough."

They turned back to Eames, who was smiling politely at them. Arthur wasn't sure in the dimming light, but he thought he saw Eames' gaze flick up from giving him a thorough once-over. "All set, then?" Eames asked.

"Yes," Arthur said, as he and Ariadne tugged their weary horses away from the grass they'd been nibbling. "Thank you."

Eames waved away that last as he pulled his hood back up. "I have been called many things in my life, but never a bad host." He pointed up the road. "I hope you'll forgive me if I jump ahead and meet you there, but it's bloody freezing out here. Castle's just this way. Follow the road, you can't miss it. "

They certainly couldn't. After rounding a few bends, they were presented with a moat, an iron-bound drawbridge across said moat, and beyond that the most menacing-looking castle that Arthur had ever seen. It wasn't particularly large--definitely a one-extended-family-and-assorted-servants castle rather than the sprawling metropolis of family and step-family and cousins-of-various-states-of-removedness that Arthur had grown up in--but what it lacked in size it made up for in attitude. It was brooding. It was black. It was _pointy_ , with various towers and minarets sprouting from every corner. It loomed over the valley below like an overly aggressive gargoyle.

Eames was waiting for them at the drawbridge, beckoning them and calling cheerfully, "Come in, come in. Sorry about the...well." He gestured up at his Castle of Doom. "I've only been here a few months and am in the process of redecorating. The former owner's sense of style was rather...er...."

"Much," Arthur suggested.

"Quite," Eames agreed, as they headed across the drawbridge. "The inside's even worse! I have never seen such a collection of moldy dark tapestries, red velvet couches, haunted suits of armor, and murderous household items in my entire life. I've corraled most of them in the basement--which I really don't recommend you wander into, incidentally--so the place is perfectly safe, if you mind your footing and watch out for the occasional pit trap."

They continued on through the courtyard, where a pair of floating cloaks were waiting for them. "Hello, boys," Eames greeted them. To Ariadne and Arthur, he said, "These fellows will take care of your horses. I don't usually have much use for the beasts, so I'm sure they're happy for something to do."

"Are they...spirit servants?" Arthur asked, eyeing the fluttering cloth as he dismounted.

Eames turned and smiled at him, as if he'd done something interesting. "Oh, no, they're ghosts. Bound to the castle, as far as I can tell, like most of the servantry. Unbinding all the bound souls around here is definitely on the renovations to-do list. I'm all for free labor, but slavery makes me itch."

"Lovely," Ariadne muttered, mouth set in a grim line as her horse plodded off to the stables, apparently content to be led by nothing in particular.

Eames rubbed his hands together and headed up to the main doors, which creaked open ominously at his approach. "This way!"

Arthur and Ariadne looked at each other, then shrugged and followed. The giant doors, predictably, slammed shut behind them.

The inside, as Eames had warned them, _was_ even worse than the outside. They found themselves in a huge receiving hall, velvet tapestries depicting various gruesome battles draped over black stone and ebony wood. The floor was black marble, slightly dusty but impressive in the sheer slick expanse of it, spilling under their feet like water to run ahead to the foot of the stairs, through the various halls that headed off into barely-lit and ominous shadows. The receiving hall was lined with candle sconces, their light tinged with the strange blue glow that everlight charms always had. The floor tossed the light back up and around among the mirrors that stood in between the tapestries. The entire effect--a lot of light being tossed about and finally swallowed by the dark stone--was almost cruelly disconcerting.

Even Eames winced. "I find it helpful to avoid eye contact," he said. "I keep meaning to get some carpets. Or some acid, one or the other." He gestured for them to follow and led them behind a pillar and through one of the smallest halls hidden behind it. This hall--dark-stoned, but much less intimidatingly so--wound past what looked like a labyrinthine warren of storerooms, small chambers filled with tables and shelves and cupboards. The floor here was plain stone, worn smooth but unshiny by footfall. Arthur had a long few moments to wonder why they were in the servants' hall before Eames opened a door to the right and gestured them in with a bowing flourish. "Here we are. Home sweet home."

Ariadne, ever the watchful liegewoman, went first. "Oh," Arthur heard her say from inside. It wasn't a horrified or fearful or angry "oh". More bemused surprise, really, which Arthur took to mean that it was safe. Eames just smiled at him as he passed.

They were in an utterly normal suite of rooms, large but not cavernous. The walls were stone, but more a normal gray type of stone, and hung with rich paintings. The furnishings were overstuffed, comfortable and friendly looking, and the shelves that lined a good deal of the walls were crammed with books and crystals and bottles and other personal-looking whatnot. There was a good-sized window looking out on the last dregs of sunset in the valley below, and--oddly enough--a draped canvas in front of it. The entire place looked utterly lived-in, down to the plate and cup next to a particularly squashy armchair and the discarded robe trailing along the floor into a slightly messy-looking bedchamber. There was even a large and fluffy black cat, eyeing them all with a yawn from atop a bookcase.

"You'll have to excuse the mess," Eames said. "I wasn't exactly expecting visitors. But, there's an extra room over there and I'd be surprised if the servants haven't already made up the beds and put your things in--" he moved over to a side door and opened it onto what looked like it might have been, in another life, a childrens' room, complete with two small but serviceable beds. "--Aha, yes, wonderful. Bathroom's over _there_ \--" a gesture to a door at the back of the suite--"my rooms are over _there_ " a handwave at the doors on the other side, including the one the robe was trying to flee through "and...well...that's about it. Oh, and the kitchen, that's back out into the hall and just a bit further down."

"You live here?" Ariadne asked. "This whole huge place, and you live here in...what, the head cook's quarters?"

Eames shrugged. "Well, it's enough, now isn't it? All the essentials, close to the kitchen, and on the ground floor, to boot. Less of a hike to get a midnight snack, that's for sure. Also the easiest to clean out. Barely anything here, really, except an elderly poltergeist and an overexcited chef's knife."

"So...." Arthur said slowly, "why do you have such a huge castle if...."

"If I don't want to play evil overlord?" Eames shrugged out of his cloak and outer robe, tossing them over a chair. That left him in gray trousers and a shirt of a rather disconcerting shade of orange. "Kicked out the last evil overlord on a job, oh, half a year ago. Nasty bugger, but no match for yours truly and a few of my closest associates. He'd been terrorizing the whole valley, and everyone was so glad to have him gone that they cheerfully gave me all his things, including...well." He waved a hand that included rooms, castle, ghostly servants, and haunted housewares. "It's been an adventure, but I must admit that the place is growing on me."

"Ah," Arthur said, blinking. "That's...nice."

Eames flapped at the cloaks still around their shoulders. "Please, make yourselves at home. Dinner's probably assembling itself as we speak, but feel free to wash up if you'd like. It sounds as if you've had quite a day!"

\-----------

"Well," Ariadne said, after they'd had a surprisingly good dinner and were preparing for bed.

"Well," Arthur agreed. He swung his legs up onto the bed, frowning at how he had to drape his ankles over the footboard.

"So," Ariadne nodded. "We run like hell first thing tomorrow morning?"

Arthur nodded back. "Sounds reasonable to me. All we have to do is head north. We'll hit the border eventually."

"Right! Good plan." Ariadne beamed and poked around in her covers suspiciously before climbing gingerly in the bed. HER feet, Arthur noticed grumpily, didn't hang over the edge. "Do you think he'll try to stop us?"

Arthur raised a shoulder in a shrug, leaning his scabbard against the bed so it was within easy reach. When they'd asked, Eames had cheerfully disavowed any knowledge of how they'd ended up on his mountain--

("No clue! Magic, I'd assume, but really, the world's practically rotten with the stuff. Could have been a misfired spell, or a mischievous spirit, or a stray faery circle you traipsed through. It's so hard to pin down causes when something like this happens. More tea? Dessert? I've a nice pudding I made just this morning....")

\--though whether or not he was telling the truth was up for debate. If he _had_ been lying, he was very good at it. "I don't know," Arthur said, finally. "It's too much a coincidence, for us to hit some random magical effect, then show up randomly on a wizard's mountain and have that wizard not know anything about it. But if he DID bring us here for something, he's taking his sweet time getting around to it. He could have whisked us into a dungeon by now."

"Maybe he's just waiting for us to fall asleep." Ariadne clutched an unsheathed Valor to her chest. The blade wasn't glowing with an indication of danger, so that was something, at least. Ariadne, however, was not reassured. Her eyes were narrowed at the door and, Arthur assumed, at the wizard beyond it in his own rooms.

Arthur shrugged. "Maybe. ...You want to sit watches, don't you?"

Ariadne nodded grimly, eyes not moving from the door.

Arthur sighed. He was TIRED, and the bed was soft and warm, and he wasn't looking forward to enjoying it for only half the night. But Ariadne had that determined set to her mouth that he knew better than to argue with. "Fine. You want to take first?"

Ariadne nodded again.

Arthur rolled over onto his side, yawning. Personally, he thought that if Eames wanted to cast spells on them, there was precious little they could do, awake or asleep. Not to mention that he seemed smart enough to do it without getting into melee range. But if it made Ariadne feel better.... "Fine. Wake me when you get tired, ok?"

"Of course. Sleep well. Not too well, mind you, but well."

"...Right. 'Night." Arthur blew out the candle on the bedside table between them.

He expected to toss and turn, bothered by the strangeness of the bed and the castle around them and Ariadne boring a hole in the door with her brain beside him. Instead he laid his head down on the perfect-balance-between-fluffy-and-squishy pillow, closed his eyes, and fell instantly asleep.

\-------

"So," Yusuf said, regarding him with much-too-amused dark eyes. "What was all that?"

Eames scowled. "Not here. Workshop." Then he held his workshop doorway firmly in his mind and stepped forward into it, conveniently skipping the space in between. Honestly, he loved teleportation. So useful for so many things.

Yusuf joined him with a slight whoosh of displaced air, leaping up onto Eames' desk. He turned around a few times, wrapped his tail around his black paws and smirked. "So. What did you do? You were going after the Eye of Terillian, weren't you?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Eames said, running his hands through his hair as he paced. His workshop was in one of the high towers, so he didn't have to worry about waking his guests, now. "How was I to know that some princeling was using it as a CLOAKPIN? It was supposed to be in a dowager's jewelbox, not ON someone, and certainly not near anything that could interfere with a nice, simple larceny-by-teleportation!"

"That sword the knight girl has is awfully nice, though. Ancient work, probably third or fourth dynasty Gallish Mage Kings. I'd like to get a closer look at the enchantments on it, really." Yusuf said, reaching up one paw to wash his ears.

Eames paced back the other way, rounding his work table. The sympathic crystals on it glowed blue as he passed. "I think fifth dynasty, actually, but that's beside the--oh for--will you STOP that? I can really go without seeing you take a bath on my desk. Honestly, have you no shame?"

"I've got some dust--"

"So you're going to EAT IT? Transform and go take a bath like a civilized man!"

Yusuf rolled his eyes, and stretched with utterly catlike disregard for Eames' wishes. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I'm working on that, now aren't I?" Eames said, snatching up a scrying crystal on his way past and tossing it from hand to hand.

Yusuf snorted. "Just take the thing. Honestly, just teleport it from their room, kick them out, and be done with it. How is this hard?"

"It's hard, my furbrained friend, because I don't particularly want the Gallish royal family to know that I stole one of their greatest magickal treasures. That sort of thing could bring about all sorts of political ramifications, and I don't particularly want to start another chapter in this neverending war we've got going with Gallia."

Yusuf stared at him, eyes going to halfmast. "We're MERCENARIES, Eames. War is what we DO. Who cares if the war starts up again? More work for us, eh?"

Eames frowned down at the scrying crystal. "I'm rather enjoying my vacation. I've got hobbies. And I'm enjoying fixing the place up. I'm also enjoying no one trying to kill me on a daily basis, is that so wrong?" He looked over at Yusuf. "What, bored already?"

Yusuf shrugged. "Not really. But SOME of us don't have enough put away to retire on just yet. There's a war out there with my paycheck written all over it." He flicked his tail, yawning widely in a show of pink tongue and white teeth. "And you're avoiding the question. What are you going to do with the princeling and his lovely bodyguard?"

Eames narrowed his eyes off into space. "I'll think of something. Some way to get the Eye away without alerting them. Perhaps I can make a replacement. A nice forgery. He's obviously not using its powers right now, so it just needs to LOOK right...."

Yusuf tilted his head thoughtfully. "You'd need a bit of magickal shine, to make it look proper to wizardsight."

"Yes, yes," Eames said absently, "and then by the time someone figures it out, they won't know when it got switched for the real one." He grinned. "Brilliant."

Yusuf leapt down from the desk and polymorphed back into a human, his feet hitting the floor as soft leather boots instead of cat paws. He reached up to brush something out of his dark hair, then leaned back against the desk, grinning. "And I suppose you've got a walnut-sized, perfectly cut piece of tourmaline just lying around."

"You are such a ray of SUNSHINE, aren't you?" Eames looked over at his workbench. Crystals galore, for that scrying project he'd been working on, but no, no tourmaline. Certainly not cut as exquisitely as the eye. "I didn't say that it was going to be EASY." He cut a glance over at Yusuf. "I don't suppose you--"

Yusuf snorted. "Hell no. Jewels are too much trouble. Give me cold hard gold any day. I can ask around a bit, though."

"Thanks." The rub, Eames thought, was that a certain dragon of his acquaintance probably had a perfect specimen of every jewel known to man- and dragonkind, but asking for it was absolutely out of the question. Dragon's hoards were sancrosanct, and Eames had spent too much time befriending Saito to risk insult. Ah, well, he'd just have to find one, one way or another. "It'll take some time," Eames mused, setting the scrying crystal back on the worktable. "Getting the stone, cutting it, setting it...."

"How're you going to keep them here without them getting suspicious? They're probably ready to bolt tomorrow morning." Yusuf's lips quirked into a wry smile. "No reason to stay, and I doubt they bought your innocent act."

"Maybe not," Eames said, shrugging. He was an excellent liar, but there were only so many coincidences one could expect marks to swallow. "But they don't know what I'm after, and as long as they don't see me as a danger, they probably won't fight to get away." His eyes fell on his window, and the cloud-shrouded night beyond, and he smiled. "I'll just need to come up with a good reason for them to stay, now won't I?"

\---------

The next thing Arthur knew, it was morning, and there was a loud knock on the door. In the other bed, Ariadne snorted herself awake, reflexively pulling Valor halfway out of her sheath. "Wha--" she said, then, "Damn, I fell asleep, didn't I?" She rubbed her face, frowning. "Stupidly comfortable bed. You ok?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, yawning. He felt pretty great, actually. He hadn't slept that well in what felt like weeks.

The knock came again. "Morning!" Eames' cheerful voice called. "Breakfast!"

"So much for sneaking out," Ariadne grumbled, resheathing Valor and setting her aside. As she threw her feet over the side of the bed, though, Ariadne said, "...damn. Look."

Arthur restrained himself from a proper scratch and looked where she was pointing, out the window. Where, evidently, every bit of water in the world was falling in buckets from the sky. There was, he was sure, a valley out there somewhere, but they couldn't see it anymore. He cursed, inwardly. He hated riding in the rain.

When they emerged from their room, a slightly damp Eames was shrugging into his robe in the sitting room, the black fabric closing over his painfully green shirt. He smiled at them. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

Ariadne scowled, but Arthur's manners kicked in. "Yes, thank you."

"Good!" Eames nodded at the windows, sheeting with rain. "I know you two are probably keen to get going, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit. This storm blew up last night, and the road down is washed out."

Ariadne scowled even harder. "Washed out."

"Yes."

"And you know this how?"

Eames pointed one finger up. "You can see the bridge from the towers. I can show you, if you like. It's a fairly impressive view, if a bit wet."

"And this is the only road off the mountain," Arthur said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, yes," Eames said, looking apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry. It should only be for a bit, though. The water recedes fairly quickly once the rain stops." He spread his hands in a "what can you do?" gesture, then clapped them together. "In the meantime, breakfast? There are muffins!"

Eames beamed. Ariadne scowled EVEN HARDER. Arthur just sighed.


End file.
